


(if we've got nothin') we've got us.

by SmoakScreen (midwestwind)



Series: Tumblr Prompts [7]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Anchors, Best Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, POV Female Character, Prompt Fill, Rated for swearing, Romance, TV News
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 13:52:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6378637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midwestwind/pseuds/SmoakScreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iris should have known broadcast journalism would be a mistake.</p>
<p>In fact, if she had just stayed the course she wouldn’t even be on TV at all. Iris would be hiding behind her computer in relative obscurity writing for a newspaper or, more likely, an online publication. God, if she had a time machine.</p>
<p>As it is, she’s sitting at her stupid desk in front of her stupid fake backdrop at 3 AM trying not to sound like she’s contemplating quitting on air in a blaze of glory.</p>
<p>Barry Allen, it turns out, is a breath of fresh air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(if we've got nothin') we've got us.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "we're coanchors at a news network at 3am and we build a devoted fanbase of insomniacs who want us to make out" via bluestoplights
> 
> I feel like I deviated from the prompt a bit but I'm pretty happy with where this fic took me. Major props to Sandy for both letting me steal her prompt and proofreading! Hope you enjoy!!

Iris should have known broadcast journalism would be a mistake.

 

It’s not that she’s necessarily dying for the recognition or notoriety of daytime news. She doesn’t even need the early morning half-hearted viewership of tired people working nine to five, shuffling around getting ready while a too chipper voice tells them the news.

 

In fact, if she had just stayed the course she wouldn’t even be on TV at all. Iris would be hiding behind her computer in relative obscurity writing for a newspaper or, more likely, an online publication. God, if she had a time machine.

 

As it is, she’s sitting at her stupid desk in front of her stupid fake backdrop at 3 AM trying not to sound like she’s contemplating quitting on air in a blaze of glory.

 

Well, she was contemplating that anyway. She’d daydream about it at least three times a week in between reiterating news from earlier in the day and trying to find a way to make it sound like the clip they’d found on YouTube is actually news. Of all the new stations in the city, Iris had to work for the one with a 24 hour cycle.

 

Barry Allen, it turns out, is a breath of fresh air.

 

He comes in with the excitement of a terrier and Iris almost feels bad for him. She remembers when she’d thought this gig was the best thing to ever happen to her. Honestly, she’s too young to be this jaded. But Barry holds his own, can barely sit still leading up to most broadcasts, and somehow all that excitement lasts through his first month.

 

Iris is a little impressed.

 

-/-

 

By month three, impressed turns to annoyed. Not only has he managed to uphold his cheery attitude and genuine excitement for _absolutely fucking everything_. Barry Allen now has a fanbase. Iris West is going to murder someone.

 

Well, at least then she’d finally be on the evening news.

 

Barry is, you know, objectively hot. Iris can admit that, they’re all adults. He’s got that whole puppy dog thing going on and it works for him. But he also has this, like, _gaze_ thing. Iris doesn’t really know how to describe it except that sometimes she’ll catch him looking at her and her whole brain shuts down. Or they’ll actually catch a serious news story and he can be so _passionate_ about it.

 

Look, she gets it, okay? The appeal of Barry Allen isn’t exactly a mystery.

 

That doesn’t make the fanbase any less annoying. Iris has been with the station for nearly a year, she’s no stranger to being recognized by insomniacs and third shifters. Sometimes she’ll go out to a bar on her occasional day off and men with bags under their eyes will buy her drinks from across the bar, tipping their glass like they share something. Maybe they do, in some weird TV personality way. But that is completely, one hundred percent different than Barry’s _fans_.

 

Iris usually avoids her own name on the internet. Mostly out of self preservation. She’s not just a woman in the media, she’s a _black woman_ in the media. She’d learned a long time ago what that meant. But her dad e-mails her a _Buzzfeed_ article about news anchors with the best chemistry. It’s topped off with a picture of her and Barry. The news ticker is cut off the bottom so she can’t tell how long ago it’s from but Barry is doing that _gazing thing_ and, from an outside perspective, Iris can understand how it might seem like something else.

 

So, she clicks it. Sue her.

 

Iris has a complicated relationship with the website. It’s hardly the type of journalism she’d be proud to put out but she understands the need to pay off student debt. She doesn’t judge. There are fifteen people on the list and Iris vaguely skims through them, recognizes some people from national programs and local stations. She and Barry are number eleven.

 

“ **11\. Iris West and Barry Allen**

 

 _If you don’t recognize these two, it’s probably because you’re a functioning member of society with a healthy sleep schedule. Or you have better things to be watching at 3 in the morning. West and Allen headline the 3am block of their 24 hour news cycle. Glamorous. But don’t let their awful time slot deceive you, these two are easily two of the hottest anchors in news today. Barry Allen joined the show three months ago, replacing West’s previous co-anchor after he retired. The above picture is only one of many times the camera catches Allen’s eyes on West and the repertoire between these two is lightning! While they both certainly have their own fans - particularly Allen who has captured many an insomniac and party girl’s (and boy’s) hearts with his charm - they’ve amassed their own following. These watchers affectionately coined the term_ Westallen. _We’re totally shipping it!!_ ”

 

Logically, Iris knows being “shipped” with her co-anchor who she doesn’t actually know that well should bother her. For some reason, the idea of sorority girls watching the program just to drool over Barry bothers her more.

 

-/-

 

Barry has a coffee for her when she shows up on the set. He always does this. Iris thinks it started as a way to win over her favor and it did work once he got her order right. He keeps doing it, though, and usually it’s enough to add some bit of pep to her mood before they go on air.

 

Instead, she grunts a short thanks and heads to makeup.

 

“Okay, you’re more grumpy than usual,” Linda comments, once she’d lined Iris’ eyes and added mascara to one. “You’ve barely touched your special Barry coffee. What’s going on?”

 

Iris raises an eyebrow.

 

“ _Special Barry coffee_?”

 

“Yes,” Linda sighs in exasperation. “Barry shows up before you every night with a coffee with your name on it. He once bit Cisco’s head off for trying to steal it. The coffee is special and you’re avoiding my question.”

 

Iris reaches up to run a hand through her hair, only to stop short when Linda gives her a look for nearly ruining her perfectly placed curls. Instead, she pouts and crosses her arms.

 

“Did you know he has _fangirls_?” Iris asks. “We’re a serious news cast, _not_ a show on the CW. It’s ridiculous!”

 

Linda’s smirk is too smug as digs the eyelash curler out of her case. Iris narrows her gaze at her but it only earns another look as Linda straightens up and holds the little metal contraption out towards her.

 

“No need to be jealous, Iris,” she chides. “Barry only has eyes for you.”

 

“I’m not jealous!” Iris nearly shouts, controlling herself but jolting at the accusation. It leads to her eyelashes being tugged and the sudden pain pulling a yelp from her. Linda pulls the curler away and Iris covers her now watering eye.

 

“Whatever you say,” Linda sighs again, pulling out a makeup wipe. “If it’ll get you to sit still. Now, I have to start that eye all over.”

 

Iris pouts again, tightening her crossed arms, but sits still while Linda redoes her eyeliner.

 

That night, they show a video of a dog that can sing Happy Birthday. Because _that’s_ news. Even through her bitterness, Iris can admit that the dog is adorable as it warbles the tune but Barry is about to buzz out of his seat at the sight.

 

Which, you know, _objectively_ Iris thinks is definitely cuter.

 

-/-

 

“Do you want to get breakfast?” He asks one night as she’s packing up her things.

 

Linda had packed up her case and left Iris with a single makeup wipe before disappearing out the door as quickly as she could. Iris can’t blame her. Their shift ends at 5 AM and the every time someone opens the heavy studio door Iris gets a peek at the sunrise. The morning traffic rush is about to start and no one wants to get caught in it.

 

Iris looks up at Barry in surprise. They’ve never really hung out outside of the studio. She’s mostly put the whole “fangirls” issue behind her. Mostly. But still, maybe they should be keeping this profession and avoiding any personal outings. Iris certainly hadn’t had any of those with her cranky, old previous co-anchor.

 

“Sorry, what was that?” _Stalling_ , she chides herself for the transparent behavior.

 

Barry lifts one arm to rub the back of his neck. He’s shed his tie and the suit jacket he’d been wearing on air had been replaced by a plain black coat. The collar is sticking up oddly and Iris reaches out unthinkingly to smooth it down, causing Barry to choke on his words halfway through.

 

“Do you want to, uh, go get breakfast with me?”

 

Iris pulls her hand back and lifts her bag onto her shoulder. The forced casualness in his tone screams danger but Iris is starving and - what the hell, right? She shoves the makeup wipe in her bag and nods at him.

 

“Sure,” she smiles earning one twice the size in reward.

 

It’s not like breakfast is a date.

 

-/-

 

It becomes a bit of a ritual. It’s hell for Iris’ sleep schedule but hanging out with Barry makes her realize just how much she enjoys hanging out with Barry. So, she’s hardly about to call it off for the extra hour and a half of sleep she’d get.

 

“So,” she asks one morning sitting in their usual 24 hour diner, “How did you get into journalism?”

 

Barry does what Iris has affectionately coined his “self depreciating head tilt” and stirs sugar into his coffee. She waits patiently for him to find the words. This is how it is talking to him sometimes, when there aren’t note or a teleprompter. She thinks he’s got so much going on in his mind at once he has to calm them all down to tell a story.

 

It’s adorable.

 

“I kinda fell into it,” he admits with a shoulder shrug, shredding the remains of his sugar packets. “I was a chemistry major, actually, and a professor suggested joining the school news station as an extracurricular. I think she just thought I was lonely.”

 

“Were you?” Iris asks before she can stall the question. Barry seems startled but there’s something on his face that makes her think it isn’t in a bad way.

 

“I- yeah, I guess. I mean, I was this nerdy twenty-year-old in a new city. I wasn’t making friends left and right,” Barry explains.

 

“ _Really_?”

 

Barry chuckles at her surprise.

 

“Does that shock you?”

 

Iris shrugs, sips at her coffee to test the temperature.

 

“Yeah, kind of,” she admits finally. “I mean everyone at the studio loves you. You and Cisco get on like a house fire.”

 

Barry grins and it rivals the sunrise peeking through the half closed blinds. He doesn’t comment on his popularity though, shifting the attention onto her.

 

“Did you grow up in New York?” He asks and Iris shakes her head as she adds another sugar packet to her coffee. It’s still just a touch too bitter.

 

“Nah, I moved here a little over a year ago when I got offered the job,” she explains. “I would have liked to find something a bit closer to my dad but, you know, gotta pay those student loans back.”

 

Barry nods in grim understanding. Nothing more uniting for people than the reality of college debt.

 

“Are you and your dad close?”

 

Iris can’t help but smile at the thought of her father.

 

“Yeah, he’s my hero. He’s a cop but you’d never know it by looking at my e-mails. Anytime he sees my name pop up in an article, he sends me a link to it. It’s great.”

 

“Really?” Barry laughs. “Do you show up often?”

 

Iris shrugs. She almost tells him about the article and the _shipping_. The memory of the still image of her staring at her stops her, though.

 

“Nah, not really,” she says instead because it is the truth.

 

She gets to know Barry Allen over burnt coffee and chocolate chip pancakes.

 

-/-

 

“So, what’s with you and Boy Wonder?” Linda asks one day, trying to calm the sleep caused puffiness underneath Iris’ eyes.

 

Her sleep got especially cut off today by the need to go grocery shopping after breakfast with Barry and an early afternoon call from her father. He’d tried to hang up when he’d realized he’d woken her but Iris wasn’t going to miss out on quality Joe West time for an extra hour of sleep.

 

Iris raises an eyebrow in lieu of an answer, covering a yawn behind her palm. Linda motions towards Barry is getting his own face touched up. Iris watches Patty dab light colored concealer onto his undereye and figures he’s got bags to match hers.

 

“What do you mean?” Iris questions as Linda gives up on her eyes and focuses instead getting her hair to coif just right.

 

“You leave together every morning,” Linda explains. “I know you guys go get breakfast but, come on, _every_ morning? As if you two don’t get enough of each other. Seriously, what’s actually going on?”

 

Iris shrugs, carefully as not to displace the curls Linda has just carefully placed.

 

“Nothing,” she says. “We’re friends.”

 

Linda gives her a look that says she doesn’t believe her but doesn’t push any further. Iris picks up the coffee with her name scribbled across it in Barry’s handwriting. She thinks he might actually be her best friend.

 

It’s nice.

 

-/-

 

Barry comes in one night with a paper bag and smiles enigmatically when Iris asks about it. She presses him a few times but forgets about it by the time they’re set to go on the air. He carries it with him as they walk the two blocks to their usual diner, Iris eyeing it curiously the whole time. Barry continues to offer no explanation.

 

“Okay, I give up,” she huffs once they’ve sat down and ordered their coffees. “What’s in the bag?”

 

Barry has been practically bouncing with excitement since they arrived and Iris is about to lose her mind. His grin grows at the question and it’s almost enough to abate her annoyance at the secrecy but not quite. He lifts the bag onto the table by the rope handles attached to the top.

 

“Do you know what today is?” He asks and Iris shrugs.

 

“Tuesday,” she guesses. Barry’s smile grows a little softer, a touch of shyness creeping into his expression and something in her stomach flutters.

 

“Well, yeah, it is that,” he nods, a little too quickly. “It’s also exactly one year since I started at the station.”

 

Iris’ eyebrows go up in surprise.

 

“Damn,” she chuckles. “It doesn’t feel like that long.”

 

That’s not totally true. There’s something strange about her relationship with Barry Allen. She feels like it can’t have possible been twelve months already but at the same time as if she’s known him forever. It’s hard to think of her life without him.

 

Barry clears his throat and pushes the bag across the table gently. Iris watches the movement with dawning understanding.

 

“I got you something,” he says, before rushing on, “Just a thank you for, you know, making all this so easy on me. Moving here was scary but you’ve made it seem a lot less scary.”

 

“Barry,” Iris breathes. “You didn’t have to.”

 

“I wanted to,” he insists, nudging the bag a little further towards her. He chuckles before continuing, “You’re like my own guardian angel.”

 

Iris hesitates a second longer, letting his words settle in. Her chest tightens as he watches her with complete sincerity. She turns her attention to the bag when his gaze becomes too much. There’s no tissue paper or any type of covering inside. When she lowers it into the booth next to her she can see the distinct top of a stuffed bear head and smiles.

 

The teddy bear is a chocolate brown and wearing a black blazer with an emerald green faux blouse sewn underneath. It’s not unlike the outfits she wears on air but if there were any doubt her name is hand stitched into the lapel. It sports a tiny plastic mock up of their work IDs with the station logo on it clipped to the blazer.

 

“I happened on this little custom toy shop,” Barry explains, “And I couldn’t resist. The badge was a personal touch, though, so when you’re a big shot reporter you’ll remember us little guys you helped along the way.”

 

Iris hides the way her eyes tear up behind the bear’s fur.

 

“It’s perfect,” she chokes out.

 

-/-

 

Iris doesn’t tell Linda about the anniversary or the gift. Linda is one of her closest friends and they’ve spent a few occasions hanging out outside of work. When you work 2 AM to sunrise and spend most of the day sleeping, it’s hard to make friends outside of work. Linda is nice, though, tough and confident. The type of person to tell you what you need to hear even if you don’t _want_ to hear it. The trait is both enviable and frustrating.

 

Normally, Iris would tell her about this type of thing - especially when said thing is such a heartfelt gift from a man in her life. Except every time she’d gone to tell Linda about it over the week following, she hadn’t been able to get the words out. After a while it seemed too late to bring it up without making it more than it was.

 

And it isn’t more than what it was. Which was one grateful colleague-slash-friend giving her a gift on their six month anniversary of working together. Iris thinks it’s totally normal not to make a big deal of it!

 

She does buy Barry an expensive tie in return. It’s deep red with crooked gold stripes and he makes a Harry Potter joke when he pulls it out of the box. He’s so proud of the laugh it pulls out of her he nearly dips the end of the tie in the leftover syrup on his plate.

 

Barry wears it on air every Tuesday. Iris doesn’t think that’s worth telling Linda about either.

 

“So,” Linda starts, dragging the word out, about three weeks after The Gift and Iris thinks she’s caught. She’s already scrambling for an excuse for not telling Linda when she continues, “You and Barry. You’re not, you know, doing more than breakfast?”

 

Iris sighs, equally out of relief and exasperation. They’ve had this conversation too many times to count.

 

“You know we’re not,” she answers, sipping at her coffee and trying not to smudge her lipstick.

 

“Hey, I was just double checking,” Linda laughs, raising her hands up in defense. “Because, you know, _some_ people here would like to try their hand at riding the Barry Allen express.”

 

Iris scrunches her nose at the colorful term and it takes a moment for the implication to set in.

 

“Wait, do you-?”

 

“No, I have a thing about not dating guys who are clearly into my friends,” Linda responds challenging, continuing on at Iris’ look. “Patty, on the other hand, thinks he’s cute.”

 

Iris’ eyebrows go up in surprise. She glances over towards the other side of the studio where Patty and Barry are chatting while she sets up her supplies. There’s something to be said for timing as Patty is blushing prettily while Barry smiles at her.

 

Iris ignores the clenching in her stomach and shrugs at Linda, “She should go for it.”

 

“Really?” Linda asks, watching carefully for Iris’ response. She schools her features and nod the affirmative. “I’ll tell her that, then.”

 

-/-

 

Patty is cute and nice. A little awkward but in an endearing way and, once Iris thinks about it, kind of perfect for Barry. The woman used to have to deal with putting makeup on Barry’s predecessor and, for that alone, Iris had mad respect for her.

 

However, she’s clearly not quite as brave as Iris had anticipated.

 

She’d spent the week following her conversation with Linda waiting for Barry to tell her Patty had asked him out. Iris was certain he’d tell her about it over one of their breakfasts after it happened, allowed herself to be lulled into a false sense of security when he doesn’t.

 

It takes Patty a whole week and half to work up the courage, apparently.

 

“So, Patty asked me out,” Barry says over omelettes. He’s been pushing a piece of green pepper around his plate for five minutes and the casual tone in his voice is too forced to be real.

 

A chunk of egg falls off of Iris’ fork as it hovers over her plate.

 

“Oh, she did?” She asks, looking down at the fallen food and scooping it back up. “That’s great!”

 

Barry hesitates and Iris avoids eye contact. It’s terribly transparent of her but she’s hoping that the fact that she doesn’t even know what she’s feeling means Barry won’t either.

 

“You, uh, you think so?”

 

Iris cuts into the lump of slightly burned hash browns at the side of her plate and finally makes herself meet his gaze.

 

“Yeah, of course,” she nods enthusiastically. “When are you going out?”

 

Barry looks away now, spears the chunk of pepper with his fork and shrugs.

 

“I haven’t really given her an answer yet,” he admits. “I wasn’t sure. But you think I should go?”

 

His eyes move back up to hers, startling blue and earnest. Iris feels like this is important, this could be a turning point even if she isn’t quite sure why yet.

 

“Why not, right?” She smiles, looking back down to her plate and tearing off a chunk of the potatoes with her fork.

 

It takes Barry a minute to respond and Iris can feel his eyes on her as he contemplates her response.

 

“Yeah,” he murmurs finally, “Why not?”

 

-/-

 

Barry doesn’t really bring it up again but Iris doesn’t need him to. Thanks to Linda she knows that he and Patty go out that Saturday so Iris won’t hear about it until Monday. Not that she’s particularly expecting Barry to tell her the details after his previous closed lipped-ness.

 

Iris spends Saturday night watching Legally Blonde, catching up on a week’s worth of the Nightly Show, and trying to convince herself that texting Barry to ask how the date went would be inappropriate.

 

Linda Park is a fucking godsend.

 

She shows up at Iris’ apartment halfway through the Tuesday episode in a dress way too sparkly to be meant for binge watching faux news programs. She raises an eyebrow at Iris’ sweatpants.

 

“Get dressed,” she says, stepping easily into the apartment. “We’re going out.”

 

“We are?” Iris asks, pushing the door closed and following Linda into the living room. She tries to close out of the hulu app on her TV before her marathon can be caught. She doesn’t think it works but Linda doesn’t comment anyway.

 

“Well, yeah,” Linda scoffs, crossing her arms and causing the gold sequins on her dress to dance. “I mean, you’re hot and all but I’m not wearing this dress just for you.”

 

“Now I’m just offended,” Iris smirks.

 

Linda rolls her eyes and hardens her stance, not that Iris was really going to put up much of a fight on this. She had every intention of going out once she realized what Linda intended. She could use it.

 

“Just put on something tight and short and let’s _go_ , okay?”

 

Iris gives her a salute and turns to head down the hall to her bedroom.

 

“Tight _and_ short?” She calls drolly back towards the living room. “We _are_ going to party.”

 

Iris puts on an emerald dress she keeps at the back of her closet - an impulse buy she’s been saving for a chance when she could actually go out - and Linda takes her to a club downtown she’s never been to.

 

The distraction is good enough but ultimately pointless when Patty comes in on Monday night with a bigger grin than usual. Iris doesn’t bother asking Barry how the date went at breakfast.

 

-/-

 

Iris figures she probably likes Barry. Which is a stupid thing to not know about yourself, whether you like someone or not. But she’s been in New York for almost two years and has managed a handful of dates in her limited free time. She’s never really connected with anyone the way she does with Barry, on a personal and professional level. He went from odd colleague to best friend in the span of a few breakfasts.

 

There’s a selfish part of her that would rather never admit her feelings than risk that relationship.

 

Of course, all that aside there’s also the part of her that doesn’t actually intend on continuing to deliver stale news at 3 AM every weekday. Iris wants to move forward in her career, wherever that may take her, and relationships with co-anchors usually don’t make for great resumé padding.

 

So, buried is probably the best way to keep her romantic feelings for Barry Allen. It doesn’t exactly occur to her that the only people said feelings aren’t obvious to are Barry and herself. Iris wants Barry to be happy and Patty is, somewhat annoyingly if she let’s her feelings do the talking, awesome. Iris knows from both talking with her and hearing about her from Barry that the woman has some sort of background in science. She’s brilliant and witty and gorgeous. Iris likes her, she _does_. In fact, she liked her before Barry Allen even came along. Despite what reality TV wants women to believe, those positive feelings don’t go away just because she’s dating Barry.

 

It comes out of the blue when Barry announces the end of their relationship a little over a month after it began.

 

“What happened?” Iris asks gently after waving the waitress down to order a hot chocolate for him. Barry smiles at the gesture but there’s something lacking.

 

“She said it just wasn’t working,” he shrugs. Iris can sense that there’s more he isn’t telling her in the way he scratches behind his ear and won’t meet her eye.

 

Iris watches him carefully until the waitress sets the hot chocolate in front of him. She decides not to push.

 

“So, what do you think?” She asks, watching as Barry’s eyes meet hers warily. “Chocolate chip pancakes or eggs benedict?”

 

She can see the relief in his face as he contemplated the choices.

 

“Wanna get both and share?” He says finally, a real smile lighting his features. Iris laughs in response and nods.

 

“Adventurous. I like it.”

 

-/-

 

Iris wasn’t kidding when she told Barry her father is her hero. Joe West is exactly the kind of person she aspires to be; kind, brave, gentle. When she’d been offered the position with the news station hours away from home, Joe had been beside himself with pride. He’d tear up as he told people of her accomplishments and how well he was sure she’d do in New York.

 

Iris had nearly gotten tired of hearing him sing her praises. Nearly.

 

Joe comes to stay with her for the first time since she moved two years ago. He’d helped her move into her apartment and stayed for a few days until she was settled in but neither of them had done much of anything outside of the apartment. Him coming to stay for a whole week is a big deal for Iris. She can’t get the time off work but figures he’ll be sleeping when she’s at work anyway so it evens out.

 

Iris mentions it to Barry a few times out of pure excitement but doesn’t consider what it means for their breakfasts.

 

They’re wrapping up their time slot when Iris gets the text that her father is waiting outside the station rather than at her apartment. She calls him once she’s gotten her things packed up and checked her phone.

 

It doesn’t even occur to her until she’s halfway out the door and Barry calls out “see you tomorrow”. Iris stops in her tracks, feeling a bit like she’d been punched in the stomach. Quickly, she taps out a text to Joe, asking if it’s alright if she brings a co-worker along.

 

His response of _sure, if it’s that Allen kid I have to have a talk with him anyway_ is met with a _be nice_ from her before she crosses the room back to Barry.

 

“Hey, my dad and I are gonna get breakfast,” she tells him. “You wanna join us?”

 

Barry flounders for a minute before nodding enthusiastically.

 

“Yeah, of course, I’d love to!”

 

Iris grins and leads him out to the parking lot where her dad is waiting. She doesn’t realize until later that maybe introducing Barry to her dad was a red flag.

 

Barry and Joe get on so well Iris almost barely has to hold any of the conversation. Despite her father’s jesting, anything to do with her and Barry’s relationship (or lack thereof) doesn’t actually come up. Once Barry starts asking Joe about police work, having an interest in crime scene science, any chance of Joe disliking Barry shrinks to nonexistent.

 

“So, that was Barry, huh?” Joe asks, covering up a yawn as she unlocks her apartment for them. She’d attempted to relieve him of his duffle bag but he’d given his _not gonna happen_ look. “Good kid. I approve.”

 

Iris doesn’t have the chance to ask him just _what_ , exactly, he’s approving of before he’s dropped onto the couch and immediately fallen asleep.

 

Her breakfasts with Barry suffer while Joe is there regardless but he seems less downtrodden about it after being invited to the first one. Iris knows he never would have made her feel bad for it but she’s glad it didn’t hurt their relationship in any way. Barry asks about Joe and recommends some of the nerdiest places in New York to take him to.

 

Joe gives her an amused look after she suggests they check out _Ripley’s Believe It or Not!_ “Honestly, Iris, where are you coming up with these places? An online guide of things to do in New York?”

 

“No,” Iris insists, a little offended on Barry’s behalf. “Barry suggested it.”

 

“Ah, now it makes sense,” Joe chuckles and shakes his head, amused and suddenly understanding. Iris wonders how her father feels as though he knows Barry well enough after one breakfast for it to make sense.

 

He doesn’t explain the reaction but agrees to check out the odditorium anyway.

 

-/-

 

Iris has spent two years living on her own in a tiny apartment in New York. She works awful hours, buys her own groceries, and has almost no social life. All in all, though, she’d say she’s pretty good at it. She grocery shops every other Sunday because she can get fresh produce and plan meals until the next paycheck. Her everyday breakfast excursions have become an added expense but she budgets well enough. She’s never paid a bill late. In fact, Iris would say she is exceptional at this whole adult thing.

 

None of that stops her from getting misty eyed and downtrodden when Joe leaves though.

 

He does his laundry before he leaves, insisting on buying her more detergent after he uses it. Iris ambles uselessly around her own apartment as he packs everything back in his bag and prepares himself for the long trip home. She trails after him out to where his car is parked in her usually empty parking space.

 

“Thanks for coming to see me, dad,” she says as she squeezes herself tightly around his middle, feels remarkably small for her twenty-six years suddenly. “I had fun.”

 

“It was a blast, kid,” Joe nods, holding her just as tightly. “I wish I could get the time off work more often.”

 

Iris leans back far enough to look up at him, shrug her shoulders gently. “Hey, keeping a city safe is a full time job, I know that.”

 

Joe tugs her back in for one more bear hug.

 

“I love you,” he says, his voice shaking a little with emotion.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

He clears his throat, pulling away hesitantly and placing his hands on her shoulders. Iris suddenly wishes she’d never taken the job in New York, had just interned at the local station back home until they’d offered her a full position. She knows the wish is fleeting and will pass along with her melancholy but it tightens her throat nonetheless.

 

“Listen, Iris,” Joe starts, voice stronger and more serious. “About Barry.”

 

Iris sighs. She knew they couldn’t go the whole trip without having this conversation. Still, the thought of her friend lightens her a little, reminds her of all the ways in which New York has been really, really _good_ for her.

 

“Dad, we’re not-”

 

“Hey, can I just say what I’ve gotta say real quick and then you go onto your spiel about how you’re not together?” Iris sighs again, a little more dramatically this time, but waves him on. “I’m not sure what you feel for him but I can tell from spending time with you two, it’s clearly _something_. I don’t know why you’re telling yourself not to act on it, and it’s your choice whether to or not. But, as your father who loves you and wants to see you happy, if you _want_ to be with him maybe you owe it to yourself not to convince yourself you can’t.”

 

Iris considers that for a moment before wrapping her arms around him for one last hug. She tears up as he pulls out of the space, waving at her before driving away.

 

Living alone isn’t so bad once you get used to it. There’s no one else to eat the leftovers you’ve been craving. The TV remote is always where you last left it. It’s quiet and nice, Iris actually enjoys having the personal space. It’s when that routine has been disrupted, filled with the light of another person in the apartment, that it gets hard. Having her father around for a week fills the house with the smells of his special recipes and the laughter that Joe West brings with him like he’s packed it in his beat up duffle bag.

 

When he leaves the small apartment suddenly feels too big, too quiet, just a touch colder than it had been the day before. Iris knows it’s in her own head and resists the urge to crank up the heater. Instead, she finds an old cartoon on Netflix and wraps herself, and Iris the Bear, up in her favorite blanket until the chill is forced from her bones.

 

-/-

 

Iris gets to muse over Joe’s words her entire Sunday while she does her running around and tries to buy groceries for the next two weeks. He hadn’t said anything she didn’t already know, really. Her feelings for Barry are… not necessarily complicated but unattainable. Acting on them could be problematic for her career or detrimental for their friendship if it doesn’t work out.

 

Iris had already made her decision a long time ago, the last thing she needed was her _dad_ , of all people, showing up and making her second guess it.

 

It’s not like Joe didn’t mean well or Iris can blame him. She’s not blind, after all. Maybe a bit oblivious at the beginning - of both her own feelings and Barry’s - but she knows now. She can only imagine what it’s like from the outside, when they don’t hide or control their feelings well enough. Traitorously, she thinks of that stupid article for the first time in months.

 

Iris also knows that Barry picks up on her weirdness over the few days following Joe’s departure. When he asks about it she blames it on a lack of sleep from her dad’s visit.

 

“Do you need to skip breakfast today?” He asks gently, a firm hand on her shoulder, once their time slot has finished. “If you need to catch up on the sleep it’s fine.”

 

Iris is ridiculously tired and her conflicted mindset can be blamed on her proximity to the man in front of her. But his hand is warm through her blazer and the thin blouse underneath and he’s staring at her so earnestly that something inside of her feels like it’s shifting into its proper place.

 

“No,” she smiles softly, shaking her head at him. “No, I feel like I’ve barely seen you the past week. We should definitely get breakfast.”

 

Despite his earlier concern, Barry’s grin is bright enough to rival the early morning sun. Whatever was shifting inside of Iris settles contentedly into place.

 

-/-

 

One of the more unappealing parts about being on a 24 hour news channel at 3 in the morning is that there’s typically someone more noteworthy for the studio to send out to the fancy galas. Iris doesn’t know that she’s exactly a fancy gala girl, anyway, but she sure as hell wouldn’t mind finding out. She’s been with the station for over two years and in that time has never once been invited to one of the fancy donor parties.

 

Then again, Iris can’t even imagine her cantankerous previous counterpart trying to talk rich New York socialites into giving them money.

 

Barry, on the other hand, could probably smile in the right person’s direction and keep the network running for a year. His fanbase hasn’t exactly dwindled in the nearly two years he’s been on the air. Not that Iris actively goes looking for them but, well, there’s something to be said for the spiraling black hole that is the internet. A billion and ten ways in, no way out.

 

When the memo from the higher ups filters down to them encouraging their attendance at one of said parties, Iris is nearly beside herself with excitement.

 

Barry chews his lip nervously and barely touches his breakfast as she talks about it. It takes Iris a full ten minutes of enthusing over the possibilities of the party for her to notice. So, she’s a little oblivious when she’s psyching herself up for something. Sue her.

 

“Hey,” she breathes, once she realizes he’s clearly lost in his own thoughts, and reaches over to place her hand on top of his on the table. “Bare, are you okay?”

 

Barry jolts a little at the contact and the question but doesn’t pull his hand from hers.

 

“Yeah, I’m just,” he fumbles, blows out a harsh breath. “I’m _nervous_. This is so important and I want to represent the station well but I’m, you know…”

 

He trails off and Iris stares at him bemused for a moment before realizing he isn’t going to continue that train of thought. She squeezes his hand gently.

 

“You’re what?” She asks gently.

 

“I’m not great with people,” Barry admits finally. “I’m all,” he gestures to himself with the other hand, “Awkward.”

 

Iris laughs lightly at his theatrics before shaking her head.

 

“Barry, I’m gonna let you in on a secret but I don’t want you to go getting a big head, alright?” She asks, only continuing once he’s nodded his assent. She lowers her voice conspiratorially, “you’re _adorable_.”

 

His eyebrows go up in surprise and his cheeks color. He reaches up to rub that back of his neck.

 

“I’m serious, Barry,” she assures him. “People love you. Just be yourself and it’ll go perfectly. Plus, I’ll be right by your side the entire time.”

 

Barry flips his hand over suddenly, wrapping it around her in the center of the table.

 

“My guardian angel,” he murmurs.

 

-/-

 

Iris buys a deep red dress for the occasion, pairs it with gold jewelry and pretends she hadn’t thought about the way she would match the tie she’d bought Barry. The party is on a Saturday night but Barry wears the tie, anyway. He’s waiting for her outside when she arrives and the way he looks at her when he catches sight of her in the crowd leaves her momentarily breathless. Iris manages not to stumble in her heels as she makes her way towards him.

 

“What?” She asks a little breathlessly when she reaches him. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

 

Barry seems to break away from his trance, shaking his head and he smiles down at her. Even in her heels, he’s a half foot taller than her.

 

“You look really nice,” he says finally, just as breathless as she feels. They’re both in trouble.

 

Iris smiles up at him, dances her fingers over the tie tucked into his suit jacket. His eyes flutter down to the movement before jumping back up to meet hers. There’s an alarm blaring somewhere, screaming in warning that she’s treading into dangerous waters.

 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she murmurs, the words nearly lost to the din of the crowd if it weren’t for how close their standing to each other.

 

At least if they’re gonna be in trouble, they’ll be in it together.

 

She steps back and loops her arm through his, leading him to the door where they flash their press badges for access. Iris stalls again, just inside the doors, and holds Barry back with her.

 

“Hey, remember what I said, okay? Just be yourself,” she reminds him reassuringly.

 

Barry nods and this time takes the lead in heading towards the rest of the guests. There’s champagne being carried around on trays by waiters and Iris snags two glasses as they pass. She holds it out to Barry who takes it with shaking fingers.

 

Iris laces the fingers of her free hand through his, just for a moment in an attempt at calming him.

 

Around the edges of the room are tables filled with finger foods, finely dressed guests milling around them. Iris is, admittedly, a little mystified by the setting. She’s sure she and Barry are quite the sight at the moment - her wide-eyed and amazed and Barry shaking and terrified. They need to cure them both of their over the top emotion before they try to socialize with anyone.

 

A band plays at the front of the room, a gentle slow tune meant for light dancing and easy listening. There is a small group of couples swaying around the middle of the room. Iris tips back half the flute of champagne before finding a table to deposit both her and Barry’s glasses on.

 

“What are you doing?” Barry asks, quieter than necessary. He’d barely taken a sip from his glass before she’d taken it back. Iris motions towards the group in the center of the room.

 

“Dance with me, Barry?” She intends for it to be more of a playful command but something unsure creeps in and turns it into a quiet question instead.

 

Still, Barry nods looking a little struck by the question.

 

“Of course,” he says, holding his hand out for Iris. “But I’m not very good.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Iris smiles, taking his hand and leading him towards the growing crowd of dancers. “I’ll lead.”

 

Barry stands a little awkwardly at first, one hand barely on her hip and the other shaky in her hand. Iris steps in closer, reaches up to place her hand at the back of his head. Her fingers dance at the edge of his hair, just a little dangerously.

 

“Relax,” she breathes.

 

Barry nods, his hand becoming a little firmer as it moves farther around her to rest on her back. They’re a little closer than necessary, a little closer than colleagues at a work function, but Iris is quickly forgetting about everything but Barry’s eyes on her as she leads him in a slow waltz.

 

“Ms. West, Mr. Allen,” a voice calls out to them and Iris pulls her hands back to herself as if she’d been burned. Barry’s hand lingers around her waist hesitantly for a moment before he pulls it away to rub the back of his neck.

 

Martin Stein is breaking through the crowd towards him, an middle aged couple following him. Iris smiles as their boss approaches. She likes him well enough, he’s always been kind if a little haughty. He’s brilliant, from what she’s gathered, and not astounding at people but charming nonetheless.

 

“I wanted to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Lucas-Fields,” he says before introducing the four and going into how invaluable the Lucas-Fields have been to the continued success of the network. Iris nods politely and responds when prompted but she can feel Barry’s eyes on her every so often and it distracts her. Where are the champagne waiters when she needs them?

 

Between Stein and the people who actually, miraculously, recognize them, Iris and Barry don’t really get any more time to themselves during the party. Iris does stick steadfastly to his side like she’d promised, though.

 

Everything starts to die down eventually and the guests trickle out of the building throughout the last hour of the party. Barry walks Iris to a cab and she almost asks if he wants to come with her, hang out for a bit. Her intentions are friendly but there’s a part of her - the way her breath catches at his gaze, her hand itches to take his - that knows it would be more than that.

 

Instead she reaches up and presses a kiss to his cheek. It lingers just a moment longer than she’s proud of and when she pulls away she has to wipe the remnants of her lip gloss from his skin with her thumb. Barry’s eyes are closed when she backs away.

 

“Goodnight, Bare,” she says quietly and his eyes flutter open. He moves into action quickly, pulling the door to the cab open for her.

 

He doesn’t respond until she’s safely in the car and he’s closing the door, “Goodnight, Iris.”

 

-/-

 

Iris is in trouble.

 

It’s not that this is news necessarily. She’d known already that she was in trouble when it came to Barry Allen. Except she really had been trying her hardest not to encourage those feelings, on either her part or his. It’s all because of one stupid dance and she can do nothing but blame herself. In her defense, Iris hadn’t been expecting so much to come from one little dance.

 

She and Barry sit in close proximity to each other every day. Iris hasn’t exactly been blind to the way he looks at her, even if it does set her heart beating rapidly on occasion. They both should have been able to handle one fucking dance. Like adults!

 

Except they’re not handling it. Because, whether Iris wants to admit it or not, something changed during that dance. Barry’s eyes locked on hers while he let her lead him, her hand nearly tangled in his hair as she tried to keep her breathing light. Iris can’t even explain it but she can feel the difference.

 

Every lightest brush of his skin against hers feels like electricity coursing through her, a shock to her system. Barry is both hopeful and wary around her in a new way. So, despite her best efforts at keeping their friendship in tact, Iris had gone and changed it with some light flirting and a slow waltz.

 

Still, it’s Barry’s fault for not being able to stick with the _pretend everything is fine_ program.

 

It’s a Saturday morning after their final broadcast of the week and Iris is thinking about the laundry she needs to do. They’re waiting on their bill at breakfast, Barry oddly insisting on paying for the both of them, when he drops the pretense all together.

 

“I love you, Iris.”

 

She instantly regrets letting the waitress top off her coffee when she inhales it and it burns down her throat. Her hand flies to her mouth, in both reaction to the burning and the words. Her mouth opens, to say what she’s not even sure, and her voice fails her.

 

The waitress drops the bill on the table and, sensing the atmosphere, leaves them without a word.

 

“I’m not sure how you feel. There’s this hopeful part of me that wants to believe but… I know my timing is awful, I know that we’re co-workers and that’s messy but I just, I couldn’t keep it in anymore,” he continues, shrugging in that little self-depreciating way. “I’m sorry.”

 

Iris feels a surprising tear slip down over her cheek but her throat still won’t work. She’s not sure what she’d say even if it would.

 

“Okay,” Barry says quietly to himself, like a weight has been lifted, and nods. “I’m gonna go pay the bill.”

 

He slides out of the booth, grabbing the check but only makes it two steps towards the front of the diner before turning back to her.

 

“I’ll see you Monday,” he says gently before turning and disappearing towards the register.

 

Iris hates him a little bit.

 

-/-

 

She’s _mad_. It’s not totally rational or fair because she understands _why_ he said it. She understands that he isn’t expecting anything. But she’s so angry at him for doing it anyway.

 

They were good, mostly. Sure, the party tilted everything off kilter but they could have gotten it back to normal. Barry had taken their world that was already tilted incorrectly and just threw it off axis altogether. It isn’t fair that he gets to move on with the weight free from his shoulders because he’d dumped it on hers.

 

When she gets home and cries she isn’t sure if it’s from sadness or frustration.

 

Monday comes too quickly. Iris isn’t ready to deal with him, to deal with having to act like everything is normal. Like Barry hasn’t flipped their universe upside down. She needs time to adjust to the world from this angle and forty-eight hours isn’t enough.

 

Barry gives her a shy little smile when she comes in on Monday night and Linda watches her carefully as she covers up the redness of Iris’ eyes. Barry seems able to go on with business as normal - chatting easily with Patty while he sits in the makeup chair - and Iris is scrambling to keep up.

 

“You okay?” Linda asks quietly while she dusts setting powder over Iris’ face.

 

She considers telling her the truth for a moment but the producer gives them their time warning as Linda leans back to admire her work. Iris smiles gratefully at the concern she sees in her friend’s eyes.

 

“Can we talk before you head out afterwards?”

 

Linda nods her assent and holds her hand out to pull Iris from the makeup chair. Iris chuckles at the gesture but takes it. There’s something astoundingly psychologically strengthening about knowing you have support no matter what.

 

Linda is waiting for her once they go off air but Barry stops Iris with a light touch on her elbow.

 

“Hey,” he says.

 

“Hey,” she responds, nibbling on the inside of her lip.

 

Barry takes a deep breath.

 

“Look, I know things are weird right now so if you need space I understand,” he says quietly. “But I’m hoping things can get back to normal eventually.”

 

Iris stares at him for a moment, recognizes that spark of hope that still lingers in his eyes. Suddenly she remembers why she’s never been able to stay mad at him anyway.

 

“Me too,” she nods, reaching out to squeeze his forearm gently. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Barry.”

 

He smiles at her before she turns to meet Linda by the studio door. Linda raises an eyebrow in question.

 

“You guys not getting breakfast today?” She asks.

 

“No,” Iris sighs. “Maybe tomorrow. You wanna go to that bakery a few blocks over and eat our feelings?”

 

Linda links her arm through Iris’.

 

“Lady, please,” she grins. “I don’t need to be sad to enjoy a fresh cinnamon bun.”

 

-/-

 

“He _what_?” Linda asks, far too loudly for the quiet little bakery.

 

“Yup,” Iris says, popping the p and punctuating the sentence by tearing off a piece of her cinnamon bun. “Right in the middle of our usual diner. Just completely dropped it on me.”

 

“Damn,” Linda grins, “check out the testicles on Allen, huh?”

 

Iris groans, burying her face in her cinnamon glaze free hand. She should have known better than to expect any sympathy from Linda.

 

“I’m having a crisis here, Linda, could you at least feign some support?”

 

Linda’s laugh in response is unforgiving but she nods, getting as serious as she can - which isn’t really all _that_ serious in Iris’ opinion.

 

“Yes, of course,” she says, nodding repeatedly. “Do you have feelings for him?”

 

Iris glares down at her pastry.

 

“I don’t know.” Linda raises an eyebrow at her and Iris huffs out a breath. “Yes, fine. I _like_ him but it’s so much more complicated than that.”

 

“How’s that?” Linda asks, tearing at her own cinnamon bun.

 

“We _work_ together. I mean, what if it goes south, right?” Iris explains exasperatedly. “Plus, he’s my best friend - present company excluded, of course - and I don’t know that I want to risk losing him.”

 

“Okay but what if you didn’t?” She rushes on at Iris’ look. “Look, I get it - hope for the best, plan for the worst. But what if it works out, right? What if you deny yourself the chance of finding out if it _does_ work out of fear that it might not? Don’t you think you might regret that more?”

 

Iris sighs and leans back in her chair.

 

“I knew I shouldn’t have talked to you about this,” she pouts.

 

Linda grins smugly popping a large chunk of her bun in her mouth.

 

“You just don’t like it when I’m right.”

 

-/-

 

Iris decides she should have waited until the weekend to have a crisis of the heart. After talking to Linda, she manages all over one hour of fitful sleep. She brews coffee nonstop while she tries to find things around the apartment to keep her busy.

 

Bear Iris judges her silently from her place on the couch.

 

“Stop that,” she glares at the bear, fully aware she may actually be losing her mind. “I’m not gonna call him.”

 

It’s nearly four in the afternoon when she gives in and texts him.

 

_We need to talk. Can you come over?_

 

His response is almost immediate and she wonders if, despite his calm exterior, he’s not really handling this any better than she is.

 

Barry shows up at a quarter to five with bags under his eyes, no longer concealed by makeup, and a wary expression. Iris drags him inside, depositing him on the couch, and offering him a cup of coffee. The caffeine may be catching up to her but she has to stay on her feet for at least ten more hours, if she stops now she might die.

 

“Iris,” he says, amusement clear on his face when he stops her from bustling away again with his hands on her shoulders. “Breathe.”

 

Iris takes a deep breath in and slowly lets it out. Barry grins warmly in response. It feels normal enough to calm her for the moment.

 

“We have to talk,” she comments finally, dropping onto the couch. Barry follows suit, sitting so that he’s facing her. She lifts her arm to pillow her head against the back of the couch. Barry watches her with a soft look.

 

“You love me,” she says, a little wonder creeping into her voice without her permission. Barry nods slowly in the affirmative. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

 

Barry’s eyes widen in surprise and Iris sees it again. That little spark of hope. She wants to cling to it for the both of them.

 

“For a while now,” she goes on. “And when you told me how you felt, I was so mad. Because I don’t want things to change. You’re my best friend, Barry, and I _do_ love you but there are so many ways it could end badly. I can’t risk that.”

 

Iris closes her eyes and waits. She’s not even sure what response she’s expecting but she needed to say it. She gets it now, at least, why Barry did what he did. It’s liberating.

 

“Did you know I can see into the future?”

 

Iris eyes fly open. That was not any of the response she was expecting. Barry is smiling a little though, so she figured it’s a good sign.

 

“Really?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Oh, yeah, did I forget to tell you that? Well, I see you being an amazing broadcaster,” he stops to grin at Iris and she ducks her head a little. “And I see us, no matter how this works out, still being best friends. We still get breakfast every morning and things aren’t weird anymore.”

 

Iris finds his hand and links her fingers through his between them. Barry’s eyes drift closed for a moment and Iris considers him for a moment, considers all the ways they could fall apart. She thinks about how much she loves their breakfasts and the light he added to her life two years ago. Iris thinks how lost she might be without him.

 

And she kisses him anyway.

 

Barry’s free hand comes up to cup her cheek as he kisses her back. Iris lifts her head up, bettering the angle and freeing her other hand to tangle in his hair. She presses up to him further and when they separate Barry rests his forehead against hers.

 

“What was that for?” He asks, breathless in a way that leaves Iris absolutely delighted. She hums in response shrugging her shoulders, opening her eyes to take in his closeness, the way his eyelashes dust his cheeks and the red tips of his ears.

 

“The future doesn’t sound so bad.”

 

Barry finally opens his eyes, grinning widely at her before pushing back in for another kiss. Iris responds eagerly, pushing herself further up on the couch to straddle him. She runs her fingers through his hair and pulls back to look at him. His features have eased into contentedness but he still has dark bags under his eyes. They drift shut as he leans back into the couch, a soft smile on his lips.

 

“Hey,” she whispers, nudging his cheek with her nose. “Do you wanna take a nap before work?”

 

He opens one eye and raises an eyebrow at her.

 

“Like, an actual nap?”

 

She swats his chest playfully.

 

“Yes, an _actual_ nap,” she tells him, unable to quell the broad grin on her face. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Allen, that I am a lady. At least buy me breakfast first!”

 

Barry laughs, light and carefree and Iris wants to stay in this exact moment forever. God, if she thought Barry Allen was trouble before she’s in a whole host of a mess now. Not that she’s complaining.

 

“Breakfast, hm? I think I can swing that,” he nods sagely.

 

“Good. Because I like burnt coffee and chocolate chip pancakes,” she informs him, leaning further back on his lap to cross her arms over her chest.

 

“I know just the place,” Barry whispers, pulling her back against his chest and shifting them on the couch. “But you’re right, nap first.”

 

Iris sighs and cuddles up against him. Barry makes a sharp noise of pain and digs around underneath him, pulling Bear Iris from behind him. He holds her up with a smile. Iris reaches out and snags the stuffed bear from him, curling it in her arms and snuggling tighter against Barry’s chest.

 

“I love you, Iris,” he murmurs after a moment of quiet contentedness.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

“Oh, no, I was talking to the bear.”

 

This time her swatting is a little less gentle.

 

-/-

 

Barry looks decidedly less tired when he shows up at the studio that night and Iris feels the same. Linda notices immediately.

 

“So,” she says, drawing the word out. “Still living with regrets?”

 

Iris grins, returning the wave Barry sends her from his own makeup chair. Linda smirks at the exchange and Iris shrugs.

 

“Nope,” she sighs, “I’m pretty regret-free right now.”


End file.
